


Children Will Listen

by 8lapetitehirondelle8



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, The Fracas, non-traditional family, quasi-songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8lapetitehirondelle8/pseuds/8lapetitehirondelle8
Summary: Careful before you say, 'Listen to me'.Children will listen.





	Children Will Listen

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Baby Owner's Manual: Operating Instructions, Trouble-Shooting Tips, and Advice on First-Year Maintenance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3951265) by [pippinmctaggart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart). 



> THIS IS FICTION, FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE.  
> All persons, activities, and situations included herein are to be treated as such.  
> End of disclaimer.
> 
> First, my profound thanks to pippinmctaggart for both the source material - The Baby Owner’s Manual: Operating Instructions, Trouble-Shooting Tips, and Advice on First Year Maintenance \- and for very graciously indulging my request to take it and run with it, AND for taking the time to read this over and help me fix it. Bless you, my dear!
> 
> (Really though, go read that first because it lays a beautiful foundation for what follows here, and I do reference particulars from the original story.)
> 
> The rest of this section is probably TL;DR, but maybe stick around because you might find some of this useful/interesting.
> 
> Here’s some homework for you; get yourself a copy of Rudyard Kipling’s ‘Just So Stories’ and read through ‘The Sing-Song of Old Man Kangaroo’ with the following cast of voices in mind - Jeremy Clarkson as Old Man Kangaroo, Richard Hammond as Yellow Dog Dingo, and James May as the Big God Nqong. Trust me on this one, you won’t be disappointed. I found out that this worked so beautifully by accident, and it was a very happy accident! And just for good measure, here’s a link to the illustration from the same story - the one Emily copies and adjusts to look more like Jeremy.
> 
> On the subject of dates, I opted to give Emily a birth date of August 19th 2008, approximately two weeks prior to the publication date of pippinmctaggart's original fic, September 3rd, 2008. This story takes place between the catalyst of The Fracas (March of 2015, when Emily would have been six) and through until December of 2016, during the airing of the first season of The Grand Tour, by which time Emily would have been eight. Filming dates for the tent shows and airing dates for the episodes themselves should be accurate - anything else is as close as I could figure. I tried not to fudge the dates too much, so the timeline ought to add up.
> 
> Some of you may know the song from which I pulled the title for this piece - ‘Children Will Listen’, from the musical ‘Into the Woods’ by Stephen Sondheim. (No, NOT the Disney version, you heathens! Credit me with SOME taste! Also, here, have another link to the full lyrics.) When I was in the early stages of planning this story I happened to be thinking a great deal about that song and what it implies (because Reasons) and it wove its way into the plot without me really trying, so I just let it happen. I had been mulling over the ways in which, as children, we perceive the things that are said to us and around us, how we internalise them, and what we interpret them to mean. Sometimes the things we are told stay with us throughout our lives, shaping our whole way of living, for better or worse. Other things we may interpret one way, only to be disproved later on. We don’t give children enough credit. We sometimes don’t think they have the capacity to understand the things we say and do, or in other cases we overestimate their abilities to separate humor from reality. A single throwaway comment, something said offhand, can sometimes be infinitely damaging if a child hordes it away in his or her little mind and dwells on it. They learn by listening to and watching the adults in their lives, and they’re likely to make adjustments to themselves if they think that in doing so they’re helping, or in more unpleasant circumstances, when the things that are said and done to a child are clearly directed at them, they need to protect themselves. Now, don’t panic. Emily’s fine. She just gets hold of the wrong end of things. It all works out in the end, I promise. (Erm… spoilers?) On this same subject, the little excerpt from the Jo’burg show played right into my hands for the purposes of this fic - but it also made me cringe a little, because I mean really… Hammond, I hope your girls are incredibly secure!
> 
> At this point, I’d usually apologise for something - my formatting, my rambling, the story itself - but you know what? I wrote this, and now it exists, and I’m not going to downplay the time and effort that went into it. If you like it, great. If not, that’s okay too. I have no regrets.
> 
> <3 <3 <3

**Children Will Listen**

**~~~**

How do you say to your child in the night, “Nothing is all black, but then nothing is all white.”?

How do you say “It will all be alright” when you know that it mightn’t be true?

**~~~**

**March 5th, 2015**

Emily Elizabeth Hammond-May was, without a doubt, one of the most observant six year olds on the planet.

This was a problem.

Well, it wasn’t usually a problem. Usually it was something to be praised and nurtured. But at the moment, it was a problem.

Emily had picked up on James’ mood the moment he showed up to collect her from Sarah’s. Even though James and Sarah had ceased to be ‘ _James and Sarah_ ’ years ago, when - rather unsurprisingly but much to everyone’s general delight and relief (up to and including Sarah’s) - James had become ‘ _James and Richard_ ’, James and Sarah had maintained a very close friendship. When Sarah found out about Emily, after the initial shock and requisite fun-poking, she’d become invaluable to James and Richard, taking care of Emily as much as her own schedule allowed when the boys had simultaneous filming schedules. They had been filming up north the past few days and James had come back ahead of schedule. He’d called ahead, voice tight and saying very little, so Sarah knew he was coming but not why. Still, Emily was excited to be getting her dad back a bit early, so getting the little sprite packed up went quickly enough.

“Wait a minute Miss Em, where’s your school jumper?”

Sarah watched as Emily thought, crooking her little eyebrows until she landed upon her solution. Emily held up her index finger in a gesture of ‘ _one moment, please_ ’, and scampered off to the kitchen. As she returned with the jumper there was the sound of a car pulling up in the drive. Emily’s face lit up.

“D’you think that’s Dad?” she asked excitedly.

“Go on and find out.”

Hearing the sound of the front door being opened followed by Emily’s exuberant cry of “ _DAD_!”, Sarah followed with Emily’s overnight bag. James had hardly managed to extricate himself from the Panda before being assaulted by Emily’s patented brand of loving, zealous excitement, and the sight of him pinned to the doorframe of the Fiat with a tiny little girl in his arms squeezing the life out of him brought a broad grin to Sarah’s face, especially because James was squeezing back with equal enthusiasm. Joining them at the car with Emily’s bag, Sarah cocked an eyebrow at James over Emily’s head. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head in response, meaning he’d fill her in later. At the shaking of his head, Emily looked up at her dad and tilted her head to one side, giving him an appraising look but not saying anything. James kissed her nose and set her down so she could say goodbye to Sarah. Sarah traded the bag for the child and gathered Emily up into a hug as James put the bag in the boot of the car.

“I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, okay Miss Em?”

“‘Kay. Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Silly girl, you know I love having you.” Sarah gave Emily one last squeeze and an Eskimo kiss and then turned her in the direction of the car. As Emily buckled herself in, Sarah turned to James and offered her arms towards him. He hugged her and she quietly asked, “Bad?”

“Bad.” he replied. “Everyone’s okay, but it’s… bad.”

“Call me.” she said.

James snorted. “I’m sure you’ll hear about it before I get a moment to do that.” He plastered a grin onto his face and walked towards the driver’s side door of the car, settling himself in. Turning in his seat, he looked at Emily. “Sorted?”

“Sorted!”

“Home, then.” He started the car and pulled out of the drive, both of them waving at Sarah. A couple of minutes into the journey back to Hammersmith James heard Emily shift in the back seat.

“Dad?”

He looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Yes, love?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Em. Everything’s fine.” He got a raised eyebrow in return - he blamed Richard for Emily having learned to do that so early in life - but she didn’t say anything else, just looked back out the window. James wasn’t ready to talk with her about what had happened up north just yet, not without Richard at any rate. He opted for a change of subject.

“Daddy will be home quite late. Just you and me tonight. D’you want to do anything special?”

“No,” said Emily quietly from the back.

“No? Nothing special for dinner or anything?” He glanced at her in the rearview again. Her brows were furrowed, preoccupied. _‘Oh, cock,’_ he thought, _‘How are we going to navigate this one?’_

“Mmh-nnh.”

“Okay, we’ll see what’s in the fridge then.”

“‘Kay.”

_‘Get her talking about SOMETHING, May, for goodness sake!’_ James thought. He started asking about Emily’s time with Sarah, what they’d got up to, what was happening at school. This line of conversation got them the rest of the way home, where James set Emily the task of sorting out her things from her overnight bag while he trawled through the kitchen trying to find something to feed them both. He was just extricating himself from the depths of the fridge when Emily appeared at his elbow.

“Everything put away?”

“‘Cept the bag. I can’t reach.”

James smiled at that. She’d probably tried, bless her, but there was no way she could reach the shelf in her closet where the bag lived when not in use. “I know you can’t, love. I’ll put it up in a bit. Looks like soup and toasties for dinner, and we should have enough left for cheese sandwiches for your lunch tomorrow. Can you give me a hand?”

The evening passed with a certain sense of normalcy. Dinner was made and eaten, the washing up was done, James got on with sorting out his own overnight bag from the trip while Emily made sure she had everything she needed for school the next day and then did some drawing, followed by a bath and bed.

Having got Emily settled in for the night, James poured himself a drink and slumped down into a well-worn armchair in the lounge. He sat, and he sipped, and he poured over the events of the last thirty-six or so hours - what had happened, and what was likely to happen as a result. It was an exceedingly morose train of thought and it only got worse with the thoroughly terrifying ‘what-if’ scenarios his exhausted and, by now, slightly pickled brain was coming up with. It was about two o’clock in the morning and three-quarters of the way through his third rather heavily poured scotch when James heard Emily’s little cat-like footfalls on the stairs. He looked across the room and saw her standing in the doorway to the lounge looking sleepy and concerned. Sighing, James held out an arm and waved her over to him. She came wordlessly, crawling up into his lap, wriggling as close as she could possibly get, and finally settling with her head resting on his chest just over his heart. Abandoning his drink entirely, James wrapped both his arms around the tiny child and within minutes they were asleep.

*******

Richard wasn’t at all surprised to see the faint glow of the lamp in the lounge when he pulled up in front of the house at a quarter to four. Given the current state of affairs, James was unlikely to be inclined to sleep. Richard cut the engine on the Rover and grabbed his bag. As quietly as he could manage he unlocked the front door and divested himself of jacket and shoes in the entryway on the off chance that James had dozed off. As Richard peered around the doorway to the lounge it registered with him that he was being blinked back at by not one, but two pairs of eyes. He crossed the room, watching with no small wonder as Emily anticipated his next action, scrooching up her legs so that he could sit on the other half of James’ lap. There was a momentary shuffle of limbs as the three of them negotiated the confines of the armchair. Richard kissed Emily’s head as she leaned into him, seeking his comforting touch. Richard and James then shared a kiss, Richard leaving his forehead resting on James’ cheek once it was broken. Eventually Emily’s breathing slowed and became rhythmic - she was asleep. With a sigh, Richard disentangled himself from the cuddle and picked her up, heading for the stairs as James followed. He got Emily tucked back into bed and then joined James in their room. As he snuggled up against James under the duvet, resting his head in the crook of James’ neck, Richard whispered,

“Did you tell her?”

“No, but she knows something’s wrong.”

“‘Course she does.”

They lapsed into silence.

*******

Richard happened to look out the front window in time to see Jenny Pearsons punch in the gate code and drive up. The paparazzi clustered around the gate as it closed, but thankfully didn’t try to move beyond it. Richard almost wished one of them would. Then _he_ could punch someone.

Richard reached the Mondeo just as Jenny put it in park so that Emily could get out. He stopped at the driver’s side window.

“‘Lo, Jenny.”

“Hiya. They’re bold, aren’t they?”

“More than I’d like, that’s certain.”

Emily popped up at Richard’s elbow then, winding her arms around his waist. “Thank you, Mrs. Pearsons. Bye, Chloe!” she waved at her best friend in the back seat.

“Bye, Em! Bye, Mr. Hammond!”

“Bye, Chloe!” Richard responded with a smile. “I’ll stay here until you’re past them, alright?” he said to Jenny.

“Thanks.”

“Drive safe, yeah? And thanks for running Em around, we owe you.”

“Don’t be silly! We’ll see you next week.”

Emily slipped a hand into Richard’s as they waited for Jenny to navigate out of the drive. Once the Pearsons girls were on their way, Richard looked down and gave Emily’s hand a squeeze. They turned toward the house, ignoring the shouting paps. It saddened Richard that his six year old was already adept at this. She’d developed the skill quickly after that mess in Argentina.

“You have a good day, poppet?”

“Okay I guess.” Emily shrugged. As they entered the house and Richard locked up behind them, Emily asked, “Where’s Dad?”

“In the garage. You go on and get changed, I’ll let him know you’re home.”

Emily headed upstairs and Richard headed to the garage, where he found James elbow-deep in his beloved old Honda motorbike, bits of which were ordered neatly on a dropcloth on the floor. James heard him come in.

“Emily home?”

“Yes. Clean up. We need to tell her.”

James let loose a sigh of epic proportions, resting his head on the side of the bike. “This isn’t fair.”

“Well there’s no point moaning about it.”

“No, I mean to Emily.”

“Oh.”

James shook his head and heaved himself up off the floor, knees clicking loudly in the quiet of the garage. Richard trailed him into the house and watched in glazed fascination as his partner set to scrubbing the grease and dirt from the bike off his hands and forearms. They were both dreading this conversation, and the routine precision James applied to his ablutions had a calming effect on Richard’s nerves. Richard moved up behind him, wrapping his arms around James’ waist, laying his head against James’ shoulder. James finished drying his hands and set the towel aside, layering his arms over Richard’s, stroking his partner’s knuckles with a thumb.

“It’ll be alright.” James whispered.

“What if it isn’t, though?”

“Just don’t say that in front of Emily.”

Emily met them at the bottom of the stairs, school uniform traded for jeans and her favourite jumper, navy blue with a little white heart knitted over top of where her own was. James reached down and picked her up. Emily had always been small for her age and James was grateful for it. He could still heave her around without too much strain on his back, and being able to have that kind of closeness with her wasn’t something he was ready to relinquish just yet.

“Hello, love.”

“‘Lo.”

They moved into the lounge and James set Emily down between himself and Richard on the sofa, where she drew her knees up to her chest, nervous as a cat, not knowing exactly what was coming, only that something was, and it probably wasn’t a nice thing. Richard looked pleadingly at James over Emily’s head, silently urging him to somehow get things started. James took a breath and steeled himself.

“Emily, love, I know- look, I know you know _something’s_ happened, you’re too clever not to have noticed. It’s… it’s not…” James shook his head. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it straight out. Em, your Uncle Jeremy’s done something rather awful.”

“Specifically, he punched one of the producers.” Richard said flatly.

Emily’s head snapped up at this, eyes wide. She thought for a moment, letting this sink in, and then with flawless six year old logic she quietly said, “That’s not a very nice thing to do.”

“No.” said James. “No, it’s not. And as I’m sure you can imagine, everyone’s rather upset about it.”

“We’re not sure what the outcome of this is going to be, Em,” Richard said from her other side, “but we’re pretty sure it’s not going to be… well, easy, anyway.”

Emily didn’t say anything, just stared at her knees and chewed her lip. Her little mind was churning this information around like a spin cycle. She felt Richard tuck a little wisp of hair behind her ear and she turned to look at him. He looked worried and tired, and there was something behind his eyes that was unfamiliar and sad. She turned and looked at James. His face was much the same. Here she was, sitting between the two men who, to her, were invincible. They were strong and solid and they kept the monsters at bay. They were towers of stability, unmoving and unerring, and yet at this moment they both looked as though they were ready to crumble. This was too much. She felt the tears coming and buried her face in her knees, curling herself up as tight as she could get.

“Oh, poppet. Come here, sweetheart.” Richard bundled Emily up in his arms, pulling her onto his lap and simultaneously shifting over on the sofa towards James, who wrapped both of them in a hug. “Emily, poppet,” Richard crooned softly, “nothing’s changing here, with us, okay? Other things are definitely going to change, yes, but we’re not going anywhere. We’ve all still got each other. You, and me, and Dad, and Sarah, and I’m sure once things calm down a bit Uncle Jeremy and Uncle Andy. Everything will work itself out eventually. You don’t need to worry about that, okay? All you need to do is just keep doing everything you do already, you let Dad and me take care of the rest.”

Emily was still firmly hugging her knees to her, the only outward sign of her crying was the persistent shudder of her shoulders and the occasional sniff. Richard was clinging to her as if he thought she’d turn to dust and blow away if he didn’t, looking as though he’d go to pieces himself any minute. Desperate for something to say that might offer some hope, James tried,

“Anyway, this probably means Daddy and I will be home a lot more for a while at least, so that’s good, isn’t it?”

When this didn’t get a response, James looked across at Richard, who looked back helplessly. If Emily got stuck in this emotional chasm it wasn’t going to end well, they both knew that. James wracked his brain for a solution and hit on an old joke. It was a long shot, but if Richard played along it just might work.

“Oh dear. Well, Rich, I think we’re going to have to chuck this one out and get a new one. It’s obviously broken.”

It took Richard a moment and a raised eyebrow from James to catch on, but once he caught up he faked a full-blown pout and said, “But I loved this one!”

“So did I, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Well, I suppose we could try taking it completely apart, but do you really fancy going to all that trouble?”

Richard was properly grinning now. “Well, no, I suppose not, but what if we tried to jump start it?”

“How do you propose we go about doing that, then?” James replied, noticing that Emily’s shoulders had stopped shaking so violently. Clearly she was listening.

“Maybe…” Pausing for effect, Richard unwrapped his arms from Emily and then very suddenly started tickling her side. “Like this?”

Emily wiggled away towards James but was met with more tickling on that side.

“What, like this?”

James’ assault managed to get Emily to uncurl, and Richard took full advantage, flipping her upside down and continuing the onslaught. “No, no, you’re doing it wrong! Like this!”

What followed was a ten minute all out tickle war. Alliances were made, broken, and remade. The battlefield moved from the sofa to the floor to halfway into the hall, where they finally came to rest in a breathless heap, punctuated by the occasional half-giggle. It was a glorious tangle of arms and legs and none of them were willing to move for a bit. Eventually, though, James got tired of the door frame digging into his ribs and sat up.

“I’m not cooking tonight,” he announced, “we’re ordering in.”

This got a simultaneous “Yay!” from Emily and Richard, and for a moment everything felt normal.

*******

Hugged and kissed to within an inch of her life and tucked away in bed for the evening, Emily tried to make sense of the things that were happening around her. She started with Uncle Jeremy. He seemed to be the source of the problem.

He’d hit someone. Actually, properly hit someone.

Emily tried to wrap her brain around that, and found she could, quite easily in fact. It wasn’t that Uncle Jeremy had ever been mean or angry with her - he hadn’t. It had always been riding around on his shoulders and him slipping her extra biscuits and sitting with him watching her dads filming bits together and their families spending time together. But then there had also been the times when Emily had tried to will herself invisible. When he was angry, Uncle Jeremy was properly terrifying. She’d seen him blow up at any number of people, including both her dads at one point or another. He and Uncle Andy had gotten into it with each other more times than she could count, and while no one had ever fought physically she had always been afraid that they might.

In her six years, Emily had heard every one of Uncle Jeremy's rants in great detail and was certain at this point that she, too, would be one of the things 'up against the wall when the revolution came'. Of course, she didn't really know what a revolution was, or when Uncle Jeremy's one was coming, or even which wall he was planning to use. It had to be a big wall. There were an awful lot of things Uncle Jeremy wanted to put against it, from umbrellas that turned inside-out to the entirety of the BBC’s Health and Safety department. Emily thought about large walls she knew. The Great Wall of China? Surely that was big enough, but how would everyone get there? Her dads had been there, but she hadn't. Hadrian's Wall? She'd been there, but it was a bit tumbledown. Surely Uncle Jeremy would want a posh wall? Emily pictured herself up against a giant jewel-encrusted wall next to a broken umbrella and a confused man in a Peugeot. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a wall that changed height and texture and colour, and meandered along with no end in sight.

*******

It was a thinking sort of evening in the Hammond-May household. After getting Emily off to bed, James and Richard had retired to the lounge. Richard was sprawled across the sofa, staring absently at the ceiling, one leg bouncing on the floor in a frantic rhythm. James had opted for the armchair and was trying to work on a column, but between the mish-mash of things running through his head and Richard’s thumping leg he gave it up quite quickly. “Hammond!” Richard looked over at him. “Leg.”

“Sorry.” The leg thumping stopped. “James?”

“Hmm?”

“We did better with her this time.”

James raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Bringing her round. D’you remember the last time she got like that?”

For the second time that day, James did.

> _It was June. Emily was four. A collared dove had made her nest in the bushes by the steps from the house down into the garden, and Emily was sitting quietly, watching her. James could be heard pottering around in the shed, and the sounds of Radio One and the clattering of dishes came from the kitchen. Richard came out the back door with a mug and said softly,_
> 
> _“Emily.” She turned. “Can you take this to Dad, please?”_
> 
> _Emily stood up slowly so as not to frighten the mama dove, and Richard helped her to get a solid grip on the mug’s handle. He saw her off towards the shed and went back inside. What he heard next was an almighty_ **_CRASH!_ ** _and James shouting “_ Bloody Nora _!”. He sprinted back outside and down the steps as the dove flew away, greeted by the sight of the mug shattered on the ground and Emily suspended inches above the pavement in James’ hands._
> 
> _“What the hell happened?!”_
> 
> _James set Emily upright. “It was my fault. I didn’t hear her coming - I came around the doorway and ran bang into her. Managed to keep her off the ground, but not the mug.”_
> 
> _“Jesus! I thought-_ **_EMILY! NO!_ ** _”_
> 
> _Emily had knelt down to pick up the pieces of the broken mug, but Richard’s shout froze her dead in her tracks. She couldn’t have been any more surprised if he’d slapped her. Richard saw the look on Emily’s face and immediately felt his heart crack. Much more gently, he said, “It’s sharp, poppet, I don’t want you to cut yourself. Leave it for me and Dad to-”_
> 
> _Before he could finish, Emily had bolted towards the back of the garden. James and Richard looked at each other in silent shock for a moment until James said, “I’ll get this, you get her.”_
> 
> _Richard nodded and headed in the direction Emily had run. It took him a good minute to find her, the little mite wasn’t making a sound. He finally spotted her behind a shrub up against the fence. She had curled herself up as tight as possible - knees to chest, ankles crossed, arms around her shins, hands holding her elbows, face buried between her knees. The knee-hugging was recognisable to Richard, Emily did that when she was nervous. This, though, was nervous posture dialed up to eleven. Her breathing was silent but ragged, her shoulders betrayed that much. Richard knelt down next to her and reached out a hand, rubbing her back._
> 
> _“There you are, poppet. I almost didn’t see you.” The only response he got was a sniff. “Emily, sweetheart, no one’s angry with you. It’s just a mug, and it wasn’t your fault.” Still no response. “I didn’t mean to shout at you, poppet, I just didn’t want you hurting yourself. I’m sorry I frightened you.”_
> 
> _If anything Emily’s breathing was getting more agitated, and Richard was starting to get to the point of completely helpless. He reached out and picked her up as she was. It was an awkward way to have to carry her, but she wasn’t moving and Richard needed James. He walked with her back towards the house where James was just finishing clearing away the pieces of broken mug. James saw them coming, saw the look on Richard’s face. James being James of course, he dusted the dirt off of Emily’s bottom before holding his arms out and saying. “Give her here.”_
> 
> _The transfer was awkward due to Emily being curled up like a hedgehog, but they managed it. Richard’s hand stayed on her back and James kissed the top of her head. “It’s all cleaned up now, Em. No harm, no foul. You’re just so quiet I didn’t hear you coming! Anyway, I’d much rather a broken mug than a broken you. If you ever shattered into that many pieces, I think my world would end.”_
> 
> _Emily was properly heaving now and had started emitting a familiar *_ HURK _*. James quickly turned and set her down next to the drain at the side of the shed as she frantically uncurled and emptied the contents of her tiny stomach. She managed two more sets of dry heaves before she calmed down enough for them to get her inside, cleaned up, and settled into their bed between them where she miraculously fell asleep almost instantly, clinging to both of them as though her little life depended on it._

“Yes,” said James, “yes, I’d say we definitely did better.”

**~~~**

Children will look to you for which way to turn, to learn what to be.

Careful before you say, “Listen to me”.

Children will listen.

**~~~**

**Late July, 2015**

It had been a tumultuous few months, and things had definitely gotten worse before they’d gotten better, but there were solid plans in place now and her dads finally seemed almost happy again, which was what Emily cared about the most. It was a warm Saturday afternoon, and Emily and Chloe were happily occupied building a fairy village at the bottom of the garden.

“Can I have that stone, please?”

“Which, this?”

“No, the smooth one.”

“Here.”

“Thanks.” Emily added the stone to a row of others surrounding the little leaf tents they’d been building.

“What’re you doing?” Chloe asked.

“Building a wall.”

“Why?”

Emily shrugged, “The revolution I guess.”

“The what?”

“‘S not important.”

Chloe looked at her quizzically. “Walls are to keep things out.”

“Or in.” Emily responded unthinkingly, adding another stone to her wall.

“Em?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you finished being sad yet?”

“What?”

“You’ve been sad for ages. Since… well, you know.” Emily had told Chloe that ‘ _something not nice_ ’ had happened back in March, and of course Chloe heard a little more about it from the news and other people’s conversations. Emily hadn’t said much more about it than her initial statement. Chloe’s mum had told her not to ask because it might upset Emily. Chloe just knew that Emily was her best friend, and anything that made her sad was a ‘ _not nice_ ’ thing indeed.

“Haven’t been sad.” Emily said.

Chloe sighed dramatically. Emily wasn’t seven until next month, and Chloe already was, two months ago, in fact, and clearly she was the wiser for it.

“Have.” Chloe said authoritatively.

“Haven’t!”

“Have! And it makes me sad! It makes my MUM sad! I wish you’d get happy again.”

Emily attempted half-heartedly to pick some dirt out from underneath one of her fingernails. “Sorry, Chloe. Didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Just then, James’ voice called out from the back door, “Chloe! Emily!”

Chloe stood up and held out a hand. “Come on.”

Emily took it and they walked up to the house together, where James and Jenny were waiting on the back steps.

“Hiya, Mummy!”

“‘Lo, Mrs. Pearsons.”

“Well, it looks like you two enjoyed yourselves.” Jenny said, eyeing the girls and their grubby hands and dirty knees with a smirk. “Still, nothing a bit of soap won’t cure. Come on, Chloe, I’ve still got to collect your brother.” They all wandered to the front door where Emily and Chloe had a hug. “Thanks for keeping her for a bit.” said Jenny.

“Thank you, Mr. May!” echoed Chloe.

“It’s our pleasure, Chloe.” James looked at Jenny. “Any time, honestly.”

“Right then Miss Chloe, scoot! We’ve got things to do!” Jenny waved Chloe out the door towards the Mondeo.

“Bye, Em!”

“Bye, Chloe!”

James and Emily waved as the Pearsons girls drove off, then James turned to Emily and said, “Alright, you. Go get out of those dirty things and make sure they go straight into the hamper!”

“Aye-aye, Captain Slow!” Emily smirked, saluted, and took off towards the stairs, aided by a chuckle and a playful swat to her bottom as James said,

“Cheeky monkey! And wash your face and hands!”

Emily, giggling, replied, “Okay, Dad, okaaaayyy!”

James smiled as she went. Things were finally looking up all around. He turned to close the door and was met with the sight of Jeremy’s Mercedes pulling into the drive. They were expecting him - Richard had gone out for a few extra things for dinner. James hadn't told Emily that Jeremy was coming, though, knowing she’d likely fret herself into a tizzy. She hadn't seen Jeremy since before the incident up north, and she got a bit nervy when he was mentioned. Neither Richard nor James had managed to get a concrete answer out of her as to why she shrunk every time he came up in conversation - and that was fairly often, all things considered. James’ hypothesis was that it had something to do with the fact that Jeremy had actually physically harmed someone. He didn’t blame Emily for being frightened by this; he knew she’d always been a bit wary of Jeremy because of his temper. James silently hoped that this evening he could help her work through that, prove to her that there was no reason to worry about the big daft ape. If James was secure in anything insofar as Jeremy was concerned, it was that Jeremy loved Emily as much as James and Richard did, as much as he loved his own children, and would lay his life down without a second thought before allowing any harm to befall her.

“Clarkson.”

“May.”

Jeremy came up the steps and into the house, kicking off his shoes in the entryway. “Where’s Hammond, then?”

“He’ll be back soon.”

“And the little one?”

“Upstairs. Drink?”

“Please.”

James waved towards the lounge. “Go on through.”

As Jeremy settled into the armchair he heard the telltale sounds of Emily coming down the stairs. She turned the corner into the lounge and froze, caught completely off guard by Jeremy’s presence.

“Hello, sweetheart.” he said softly, holding an arm out. When she didn’t move, he asked, “Do I get a hug, or have your legs suddenly stopped working?”

Emily took two steps forward, knowing that certain things were expected and manners were important, but she couldn’t will herself any further than that. The slight smirk left Jeremy’s face and he thought back to a conversation with James a few days ago when they’d cemented the plan for this evening. It had been bundled in with a bunch of other information, but James had quite pointedly remarked mid-stream-of-thought that _‘Emily will be home, and you’ll need to go gently there, and could you possibly…’_ Just a few words chucked into the middle of something else, but very much on purpose. Jeremy shifted in the chair so he was facing Emily and held both his hands out towards her, palms up in a gesture of supplication.

“Emily Elizabeth Hammond-May, you have my word of honour that I will _never_ raise a hand to you, for any reason whatsoever. Please believe that.”

He choked a bit on the last few words, and Emily felt herself start moving again. He pulled her up into his lap and kissed her head as she nestled down into his arms.

“There’s my girl,” he said softly. “I’ve missed you.”

James had monitored the whole exchange from the hallway, and now that he was satisfied that he wasn’t going to have to coax Emily out from under her bed he decided to let them have a moment together and went back to the kitchen.

*******

Much later in the evening, there was a comfortable lull in the conversation. Emily was sprawled on the floor drawing and the boys were lounging in a pleasantly buzzed state.

“Oh,” said James, noticing the time. “Emily.” She looked where he was pointing at the clock on the wall, which read half past nine.

“Oh.” Emily echoed, and started putting her pencils away.

“Say goodnight to Uncle Jeremy, poppet, and I’ll be up in a minute.” Richard said drowsily from where he was draped haphazardly over the arm of the sofa.

Jeremy flapped a hand in Richard’s direction. “Say goodnight to your dads, sweetheart. _I’ll_ be up in a minute.” When James and Richard looked at him, surprised, he said, “You two take the night off.”

Richard looked at James and shrugged. James smiled. Emily went to James first, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Night, Dad.”

James gave her a squeeze. “Night, love.” He kissed her nose and she moved on to Richard.

“Night, Daddy.”

Richard swooped her up and rocked side to side a few times, planting a rapid succession of kisses on her cheek. “Night, poppet.” He set her down and she looked at Jeremy.

“Go on then, shoo! I’ll be up in a minute.”

Emily gave him a crooked little grin and headed upstairs. James looked over at Jeremy once Emily was gone.

“Jez?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

“What for?”

“For fixing it with her.”

“As per usual, May, I have _no_ idea what you’re on about.”

“Yeah,” said James fondly, “‘course you haven’t.”

The comfortable silence took over again as they waited for the sounds of Emily getting ready for bed to subside. When all went quiet upstairs, Jeremy heaved himself up off the sofa with a moan.

“Right then. You lazy sods just sit there on your arses, I’ll go and take care of that shall I?”

“Oi!” Richard shouted as he lobbed a cushion at Jeremy’s head, which Jeremy expertly dodged, laughing. He made his way up to Emily’s room. She peeked out at him from under the duvet as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Right then, little Miss Hammond-May. Hands, face, and teeth?”

“Clean!”

“Hair?”

“Brushed!”

“Where’s Ramona?”

Emily held up her plush white rabbit in one hand. James had insisted it have an alliterative name after Richard brought it home for Emily, so Ramona Rabbit she had become.

“Good. Okay. Night then!” Jeremy turned to go back downstairs and heard an indignant “ _Wha-?_!” come from the bed. He chuckled. “I’m kidding, Em.” He went to the side of the bed and lowered himself to the floor with a grunt. “I’m getting too old for this nonsense,” he grumbled, and Emily giggled, turning onto her side so she was facing him. Jeremy reached over and brushed away a bit of soft, dark hair that had fallen across Emily’s face, leaving his hand on top of her little head, thumb stroking from her temple back into her hair.

“What shall we read, d’you think?”

Emily shook her head and laid a hand on his forearm.

“No?”

She shook her head again and looked away, tapping her index finger on his arm, chewing her lip. Jeremy could tell she was thinking about something, wanted to talk about something, but wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. _‘This is YOUR mess, Clarkson. Man up and deal with it,’_ he thought.

“I’m quite proud of you, you know.” Emily looked up at him, surprised. “I am. I made an awful mess of things. My mess made a mess of things for your dads, and that made a mess of things for you.” Emily was listening intently, fully focused on his eyes, digesting his words. “I’m sorry I put the three of you through this. You’ve all been so strong. You especially.” Emily raised an eyebrow. “Yes, even you.” She started to shake her head then, but he stopped her. “No, listen to me, Emily. You gave your dads a sense of normalcy. The best thing you could have done for them was exactly what you did. You kept them grounded and moving forward. Routine is a wonderful tool, and if you can keep control of the normal things, everything else seems more achievable.” At this point, Jeremy remembered he was talking to an almost-seven-year-old, and decided that he might be getting a bit heavy. Emily, however, was looking more relaxed, so some of what he’d said must have registered and taken the edge off what she was feeling. He leaned over and kissed Emily’s forehead. “You get some sleep now, sweetheart.”

*******

Over the next weeks as things ramped up with her dads’ new show, Emily had plenty of opportunities to think about what Uncle Jeremy had said to her that summer night as he tucked her in.

_‘Normalcy,’_ she thought. _‘Well, that’s just another way of saying ‘normal’. Regular. As usual. That’s what Dad likes. Everything organised and put away where it should be.’_ She turned her mind to Richard. _‘Daddy likes things to be normal with ME, but everything else can get a bit out of place and he doesn’t mind…’_

The thought occurred that perhaps it was her responsibility to be as normal as possible - like it was her responsibility to set the table or make sure her laundry went in the hamper or to put her things away when she was done with them. It wasn’t as though her dads had ever actually sat her down and said that she was meant to be ‘normal’, not in those exact words, but if it was something that helped rather than hurt it was a good thing, right? Emily couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her dads go through what they’d all been through in those few months again. They’d been different - more distant, constantly worried. If there was anything she could do to keep them from ever feeling that way again she was determined to do it. It seemed like Uncle Jeremy had given her the tool, but how to use it would take some thought. She turned her mind back to the idea of responsibility. There were two main groups under that heading that she could think of, ‘ _Tasks_ ’ and ‘ _Behaviour_ ’. Her dads’ expectations had always been clear and reasonable, easy enough to follow. She mostly remembered to put things back where they came from, and usually if she was being told off so was Richard. He had a tendency to get them both into trouble with James, not that James ever stayed annoyed with them for too long anyway. Emily took the time to have several good, long thinks about herself. She knew she could be a bit slapdash in her chores sometimes, and every so often she could be extra cheeky and that tended to get her into trouble. Eventually she came to the conclusion that there was absolutely room for improvement.

_‘I’ll just have to be better.’_ she thought. _‘I’ll have to be STRONGER. As long as they’re happy.’_

*******

**September, 2015**

The ‘stronger’ portion of Emily’s promise to herself turned out to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. ‘ _Better_ ’ had been easy. ‘ _Better_ ’ was all extra ‘ _pleases_ ’ and ‘ _thank yous_ ’ and being extra tidy and helpful and thinking about things before she said them. ‘ _Stronger_ ’ was hard when a group of boys from two years up at school decided to make her one of their regular targets for schoolyard bullying. They said horrible things about her, and even worse things about her dads, but they usually got bored and went away if she ignored them long enough. When that didn’t work, Chloe either kicked up a fuss or chased them off. Emily had had to swear Chloe to secrecy about the whole thing, telling her that she didn’t want it to get back to her dads because she didn’t want them to have to worry about her. Chloe didn’t like it, but Emily was adamant, and Emily was her best friend, so Chloe agreed not to say anything to James and Richard. Luckily the boys at school had several targets so Emily usually got a few days off between being picked on. And she could handle it. She was strong. For her dads, she was invincible.

It was Richard who properly noticed the change first. James was away on a solo shoot and Richard had collected Emily from school. She’d seemed a bit out of sorts so he suggested they reverse the order of James’ spanners in the garage, because wouldn’t that be funny when he came home? Usually Emily would be more than willing to go along with a harmless joke like this with him, so when she’d shaken her head fervently at the thought and said, “ _No, Daddy, we can’t! It upsets him_!” he’d been a bit the wrong side of surprised. Thinking she might not be feeling well, Richard kept an extra close eye on her the rest of the evening. Emily had been almost frenzied in making sure all the things she needed to do for school the next day were done, which was only unusual in that she generally managed to forget at least one of them and need reminding. The really odd thing Richard noticed was when they’d been sitting together in the lounge after dinner. He’d been absentmindedly flipping through the channels looking for something for them to watch and Emily had been drawing. She’d looked up at the clock about every five minutes for at least an hour, and then at exactly seven o’clock she’d put everything away and disappeared upstairs. Richard heard water running in the bathroom, and when she reappeared about twenty minutes later she was in pyjamas.

“Did you take care of your bath and everything, poppet?” Richard asked, surprised. Emily nodded and crawled up into his lap for a hug. He hugged back for a moment and then pushed her away a bit so he could feel her forehead. “Are you feeling alright, Em?”

“Mh-hm.”

“D’you want to talk about anything?”

Dangerous territory. Emily shook her head, knowing if she opened her mouth she’d likely tell Richard all the things she promised herself she wouldn’t.

Richard gave her a _look_. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, Daddy. Really.” Emily smiled her best ‘ _believe me_ ’ smile at him.

Richard wasn’t fully convinced but let it slide. If there was anything the matter, it would come out sooner or later, and if there wasn’t, well, there was no use pushing if there wasn’t, was there? “Well, come on then. I bet we can finish ‘ _The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me_ ’ if we get started now.”

“Okay.” Emily started to get down from Richard’s lap but he caught her up and carried her instead.

*******

He waited about an hour after he’d turned out Emily’s light for her to fall asleep, and then Richard called James, who picked up on the second ring. “Hello, you.”

“Your daughter’s being weird.”

“Yes, obviously she’s all mine if she’s being weird. Twat.”

“Wha-? _I’m_ the normal one, May, we decided that ages ago.”

“We decided no such thing! Anyway, you can’t be the normal one, you’re too short to be normal.”

“Oh! Coming from the man who compulsively cleans out the air vents in his vehicles with _tiny little brushes he keeps in the glove box for that exact purpose and nothing else!_ ”

James chuckled, “Alright, Richard, alright. What’s wrong with Emily?”

Richard thought about the question. “It’s not that there’s anything _wrong_ exactly, she’s just been, I dunno, _odd_ all afternoon.”

“In what way? I mean, ill-odd or just odd-odd?”

“I dunno, not ill, no. Just… It’s difficult to explain. It’s like she was dead set on being perfect or something. Like I’d be upset if she forgot the tiniest thing.”

“Hmm…” Richard could hear the look on James’ face through the phone. “Well, maybe… I dunno, love. That is a bit strange, but is it really something we should be overly concerned about?”

“James, she nearly cried when I suggested we re-order your spanners as a joke!”

“Okay, that _is_ weird. Though why the two of you always go straight for my spanners I’ll never know. At this point it’s beyond predictable.”

“I wasn’t going for ‘original’, I was aiming at ‘cheering up’.” Richard pouted.

James voice went low and sultry then. “You’ll get that pout off your face, Hammond, or I’ll have something to say about it when I get back.”

“Hmm, I was rather hoping you would.” Richard smirked. “But in the meantime, what do I do about Em?”

“Have you checked that all the cars are still in the drive? The shed hasn’t been burnt to a crisp? All the money’s still in the accounts and her passport is still in the safe?”

“James, are you seriously insinuating that our seven year old daughter is actually some sort of deranged Bond villain and is trying to cover up her nefarious deeds by putting away the dishes?!” Richard was trying for irate, but missed the mark by miles since suddenly all he could see in his mind was Emily twirling a pantomime villain moustache and laughing maniacally as some goons tried to beat him and James to death with soft toy bunnies. Apparently James was experiencing the same sort of mental image because it was a full minute before the two of them could string a sentence together again.

“Look,” said James when he was coherent again, “and I know this seems like a very basic idea, but have you tried asking her?”

“How am I meant to do that without sounding ungrateful, exactly? ‘Emily, why are you being so excessively _good_ all of a sudden? Could you be a bit naughtier, please, you’re kind of freaking me out?’?!”

James sighed. “I’ll concede your point. But think about it, Rich, she’s growing. She’s bound to change in some way or other.”

“I don’t want her to change.” Richard said adamantly.

“I know you don’t. Neither do I, really, but she’s going to regardless of whether or not we want her to.” There was a moment of silence on the line, both men mulling over the thought. Eventually James continued, “Anyway, consider the alternative. I’d take ‘ _obsessively good_ ’ over ‘ _shrieking harpy_ ’ any day.”

This got a giggle from Richard. “You know, I sometimes think all that washing basket business was a ruse, and you actually secretly went somewhere and made her with someone. She’s so _YOU_ sometimes!”

“Yes, and then the pair of you gleefully rearrange my spanners and I’m pretty sure you did the same thing!”

“James?”

“Hmm?”

“Just promise me you’ll weigh in on this once you get home and see it for yourself.”

“I promise.”

“James?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

James response came down the line like a caress. “I love you, too.”

There followed a period of intense scrutiny, but neither James nor Richard could seem to make complete sense of nor poke a consistent hole in the change that had come over their little girl. In combination with similar observations from Sarah and anyone else they had occasion to leave her with when they both had to be gone together, and increasingly glowing school reports, they eventually relaxed into acceptance of the ‘new and improved’ Emily. For her part, well, if Emily spent a night every so often over the following year crying herself to sleep after a particularly difficult bout of bullying because she refused to worry her dads about it, that was a small price to pay for the sake of normalcy.

**~~~**

Careful the spell you cast, not just on children.

Sometimes the spell may last past what you can see and turn against you.

Careful the tale you tell - that is the spell.

Children will listen.

**~~~**

**Late September, 2016**

The boys and their tent were somewhere in the Southern Californian desert and Emily was with Sarah. Sarah had gotten back from Edinburgh just after Emily’s birthday and had been in a whirlwind of work ever since, so she was just now getting to see Emily for the first time in rather a while. Emily was grateful for getting to spend some time with Sarah. Being surrounded by men most of the time wasn’t unusual to her by any stretch of the imagination, but it was always refreshing to get in a bit of ‘ _girl time_ ’. Something about sharing that other chromosome made things a bit easier sometimes. Sarah seemed to understand Emily differently than her dads did. They understood her quite well, but Sarah’s understanding was a bit more innate - it required fewer questions and relied on a sort of telepathy they’d developed over the years.

Emily had been with Sarah since Thursday after school but it was Saturday morning before Sarah’s search for Emily’s birthday presents had ended when she finally located them in the cupboard under the stairs, of all places. Presents and Emily had always been a funny thing. In the beginning everyone had gone a bit off the deep end what with the excitement of a baby and all. The first couple of years of birthdays and Christmases had yielded mountains of presents, not that Emily had cared a whit for them; at that age, she’d been far more interested in the paper and ribbons. By the time Emily was three, and full of opinions, the present mountain would usually provide two or three things in which she showed genuine interest and the rest went largely untouched. At this point the people closest to Emily had developed a sense of what sorts of things she was likely to enjoy the most and it became a challenge between them - her dads, Sarah, Jeremy, and both sets of Emily’s grandparents - to locate the most appropriate gift, the one which would be the most cherished. The heaps of things given to Emily diminished drastically, as did James’ and Richard’s trips to Oxfam with whatever got ignored, and the presents had matured in thoughtfulness and quality. Emily never noticed the change in quantity and was always grateful to a fault for whatever she was given.

Sarah found Emily at the kitchen sink, kneeling on a chair so she could reach to wash her breakfast dishes. “Thanks, Em, you didn’t have to do that.” Emily set her bowl in the drying rack with a shrug and got down, drying her hands. Sarah took the chair and put it away as she said, “I’d forgotten where I’d put your birthday presents, but I found them just now. Come on, they’re in here.”

She led the way back to the lounge and sat on the sofa, patting the cushion next to her. Emily settled in beside her and Sarah placed two immaculately wrapped parcels on her lap. Emily started with the smaller of the two, which revealed a copy of Rudyard Kipling’s ‘ _Just So Stories_ ’. Emily turned the book in her hands, smiling, feeling the binding and the weight of the paper of the pages between her fingers. She set the book aside and opened the second parcel. It was a new set of coloured pencils - always a good bet for her since she seemed to go through them like water - and a beautifully decorated sketchbook, spiral bound like Emily prefered so she could get at the whole page, covered in a deep teal fabric with an embroidered and beaded paisley pattern all over. Emily traced a beaded feather shape with her finger momentarily and then put the whole stack to one side, snuggled up against Sarah and said, “They’re lovely, thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Sarah hugged her a little harder and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be silly, Em. Happy birthday, sweetheart.” They sat together for a moment enjoying the closeness. Eventually Sarah said, “What shall we do today, then? Cinema? Go and say hello to the dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum?”

Emily shifted and picked up her presents, holding them up in front of her and eyeing Sarah with a look that said ‘ _What do YOU think?_ ’. Sarah laughed and ruffled Emily’s hair, eliciting a squawk from the child as she did. “Of course! Silly me. Go on, then.”

Emily had quite happily entertained herself the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, and Sarah was fully in the work zone until a little after two when she heard the beginnings of a giggle come from the lounge. She decided to take a break and investigate and by the time she got there to see what the joke was, Emily was laughing full tilt. Sarah couldn’t help but join in. “What’s so funny, Em?”

Emily turned her book around to show Sarah one of the illustrations in ‘ _The Sing Song of Old Man Kangaroo_ ’ and squeaked, “‘He was grey and he was woolly, and his pride was inordinate’! He sounds just like Uncle Jeremy!”

Sarah, startled by the aptness of the comparison, doubled over laughing and flopped down on the sofa next to Emily, pulling her in for a snuggle. “Go on then, let’s read this and see just how right you are.”

Emily turned back to the beginning of the story and read it through out loud, Sarah helping with some of the more complicated words along the way. By the time they got towards the end and Emily did a flawless impersonation of Jeremy-as-Old-Man-Kangaroo saying, “‘ _I thought you would do it by charms and incantations, but this is a practical joke_.’!” the pair of them absolutely howled with laughter and fell in a heap on the floor, stricken with hysterics until their ribs couldn’t take it any more. By and by they recovered and Sarah insisted on a repeat performance so she could film it and send it to the boys. They might not get it right away but sooner or later one of them was bound to see it and share it with the others. They finished the story together and Emily set about copying the illustration from the beginning of it in her new sketchbook while Sarah finished a column. At bedtime Sarah ended up taking a photo of Emily’s drawing and sending it along, too, since Emily had exaggerated the kangaroo’s woolly head of hair to look even more like Jeremy’s curls, added a bald spot, and lettered the quote about inordinate pride as a sort of frame to the image.

“They’re going to have a field day with that, Miss Em.”

Emily’s brows furrowed for a moment. “You don’t think Uncle Jeremy will be angry, do you?”

“Oh lord no, Em! He knows how to laugh at himself - and you’re not wrong about the similarities. I think you were very clever to think of it in the first place! I didn’t!”

Sarah’s phone beeped then with a message from James. Sarah read it aloud to Emily. “‘ _Showed Jez the film and the drawing. He sprayed his drink OUT HIS NOSE and is now in a fit of hysterics under the table. I think that really made his evening. Tell Em Daddy and I say ‘Well done!_ ’.’ See? I told you.” Sarah said, pulling the duvet up around Emily and kissing her goodnight.

*******

**Early November, 2016**

A few weeks and several visits to Sarah’s later, Emily found herself standing outside the door to Sarah’s home office listening in on a conversation she knew she probably wasn’t meant to be hearing. She’d been lying awake for half an hour, trying desperately to fall asleep, but no number of counted sheep or deep breaths had worked, and besides, she was thirsty. Emily had padded silently down the hall towards the kitchen, not wanting to disturb Sarah who she assumed was working as the light in her office was on. As she got closer to the door, Emily could hear Sarah talking.

“No, I can’t that day, I’ll have Emily.”

At the mention of her name, Emily stopped and flattened herself against the wall. She knew she oughtn’t to be listening but her curiosity got the better of her.

“No, I’ll have her then, too. … Yes, I do have her rather a lot, but it’s only until mid-December. … Well they’re filming, aren’t they? … No, the studio portions. … Somewhere different every week or two, it travels, you see. They’re in Lapland this week. … No, she’s eight now. … Yes, they’re on the road a great deal, but then that’s business as usual for them. There was that hiccough last year of course but they dusted themselves off and got right back to it. … She’s quite used to it, really. It’s perfectly normal to her. … Oh, I know, you’d never have thought it. … Well, it wasn’t exactly fair really. I mean, her biological mother managed to pay someone off to get the papers under their noses and signed. They had no idea it even happened. And then to just dump a two-week-old baby on their doorstep? In a _washing basket_ , would you believe! Apparently Richard actually told James to put it back where he found it. I can’t believe James didn’t faint dead away. … That’s the even more absurd bit. According to them, she did nothing but fuss and scream through the entirety of that first day. The way they describe it, you’d think it might have killed a lesser human being. Honestly we were all shocked they didn’t just give her back. …”

Emily had heard enough. She crept back to bed, thoughts of a drink of water abandoned. She had always known that her dads weren’t her biological parents, but they’d never mentioned that she’d been unceremoniously _forced_ upon them, no advance notice, just some sneaky paperwork and *BANG* here’s a baby! If this was true, then her dads had clearly been living quite happily without her, and hadn’t had any proper intentions to obtain her in the first place. This was a lot to take in, and it wasn’t exactly giving Emily a nice feeling. If she’d stayed outside Sarah’s office door just a moment longer Emily would immediately have been put at ease. She’d have heard Sarah say that James and Richard had always said that Emily was the best thing that ever happened to them, and that they wouldn’t trade her for anything. But she hadn’t, so she didn’t, and now all she could do was wonder why her dads had kept her at all, if they hadn’t wanted her in the first place?

*******

The next day, Jenny Pearsons dropped off a very quiet Emily to the Hammersmith house. Emily had said goodbye and thank you and disappeared into the house without more than a quick hello to Richard, who had met them in the drive. Richard watched her go inside the house and turned to Jenny, surprise all over his face.

Jenny said, “She was quiet the whole way home.”

Chloe piped up from the back seat, “She was quiet all day. I don’t think she’s feeling well.”

“Maybe,” Richard said. “Well, thanks, Jenny.” He waited until the Mondeo cleared the drive and went in, finding James in the kitchen, who looked up from the mail he was sorting.

“Where’s Em?”

“She came inside - didn’t she say hello?” James shook his head and Richard continued, “She must have gone upstairs.” As if on cue, they heard the upstairs shower turn on. They looked at each other for a long moment. “Jenny said she was quiet the whole way home, and Chloe said she was like that all day and maybe wasn’t feeling well.”

“Well, we’ll see in a bit I suppose,” James said calmly.

“James, she didn’t even _hug_ me!”

James’ eyebrow about flew off his face he raised it so high. He reached for his phone. “Sarah? … Yes, we got in this morning. Thanks for keeping her. … Look, Sarah, was Emily feeling alright this morning? … No, just acting a bit funny is all. … Okay, thanks.”

“What did she say?”

“She thought Em was acting a little funny this morning, but since she didn’t say anything Sarah let it go. Figured she’d get a call from the school if anything happened.”

Richard considered this. “I suppose it’s getting towards flu season. We’ll just have to see when she comes down.”

When half an hour passed with no sign of Emily, Richard went upstairs. He found her in bed, facing the wall, snudged down under the duvet as far as she could be.

“Em?” Richard sat on the edge of the bed and reached out, stroking Emily’s hair. “Emily, poppet, are you okay?”

“Not feeling well,” came the muffled reply.

“Anything specific, or just in general?”

“General.”

“Are you hungry at all? D’you want to come down for a bit?”

Emily shook her head. “Tired,” was all she said.

Richard leaned over and kissed her head. “Try and sleep it off then, Em. We’re downstairs if you need us.”

James met Richard at the bottom of the stairs. “How is she?”

“Tired, she says. Doesn’t feel well in general.”

“Well, we’ll just have to keep an eye on it, yeah?”

“S’pose so,” Richard whispered.

He looked so much like a lost little puppy, James pulled him in for a hug. “You big girl’s blouse, stop fretting. She’ll be alright.” He rested his head on top of Richard’s, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “You keep this up,” he teased, “Emily’ll be calling you ‘Mummy’.”

“Oi!” Richard shouted and pushed James away, huffing dramatically. “That is just- just-”

“Completely and totally accurate in every way?” James was properly laughing now, and so was Richard.

“Shut up!”

“Shan’t.”

“No, seriously Slow,” Richard stifled a mad giggle. “Em’s trying to sleep!”

“Sorry, sorry,” said James, mirroring Richard’s volume, “...Mummy.” Sidestepping the kick aimed for his arse, James moved into his office. Richard was about to head to the kitchen but paused when his mobile rang, ‘Jezza’ showing on the screen.

“‘Lo.”

“Hammond,” came the rumble, “is one of you missing a laptop charger? I seem to have acquired a spare.”

“Not me, mate, no, but hang on. James?” Richard stuck his head around the office door. “Where’s the charging cable for your laptop?” James looked around for a second, moving items on his desk. When he upended his laptop bag and gave it a shake, looking up into it, perplexed, Richard rolled his eyes and said, “It’s his.”

Jeremy huffed out a laugh. “I’ll run it over in a bit. Only for God’s sake don’t let him out of the house before I get there or we’ll lose him, too!”

“I’ll chain him to the chair if I have to, Jez.”

“Eeeeeeugh, don’t sully my innocent mind with horrifying images of what you raging homosexualists get up to in your spare time, Hammond, please!”

“You love it, Clarkson.” Richard replied with an audible leer.

“Don’t be disgusting,” Jeremy laughed. “I’ll be around after a bit.”

Richard rang off and looked at James. “He’ll be round in a while. You’d better follow Emily’s example and get off to bed, you’re obviously ill. You _lost_ something!”

“I didn’t lose it. If anything the great ape ‘ _borrowed_ ’ it and never told me and didn’t bother putting it back.”

“Now, now, James, be reasonable. I’m sure we’ll find a lovely home to put you into. It’s such a shame, though. In the prime of life, and with most of your faculties still intact, but your mind’s just gone! Poor, senile old man.” Richard tutted.

James harrumphed, “I think we proved there’s nothing at all wrong with my ‘ _faculties_ ’ last night, Hammond!” and lobbed a biro at Richard, who ducked under it and headed off to the kitchen with a grin.

*******

Jeremy showed up about an hour later, handing the charging cable to James when he opened the door. James took it, feigning affront. “Sticky fingers!”

“Ungrateful swine!”

“Drink?”

“Please.”

Jeremy headed to the lounge and James to the kitchen. Richard looked up from where he was working at the kitchen table. “That Jez?”

“Yeah. He’s staying for a drink.”

“Oooh, hang on.” Richard got up and pulled an A4 envelope out from under a magnet on the fridge.

“Don’t you think Em will want to give him that herself?” James asked when he saw what Richard was doing.

“Oh… I didn’t think of that.” He replaced the envelope.

“He’ll be here a while I’m sure. If she wakes up we can do it then.”

Richard nodded and took the drink James was holding out to him, trailing him into the lounge. They settled in and talked about nothing for a while, enjoying each other’s company in a way they couldn’t on the road. During a comfortable lull in the conversation when Richard had gone to the kitchen for more drinks, there was movement upstairs.

“Is Emily home, then? I thought she must still be with Sarah.”

“No, she’s here,” James said. “She came home from school not feeling well and got straight into bed, bless her. Actually, since she’s stirring I’ll just pop up and check on her.”

As James went up Richard returned, drinks in tow.

“James says the little one’s not feeling well.”

Richard frowned, the puppy-dog look returning. “No, apparently not.”

“Oh for- Hammond, children get ill. You know this. It’s par for the course! She’ll be fine. Stop fretting like an old woman!”

“I’m sorry, Clarkson, I’ll just stop loving my child since it seems to irk you!” Richard laid the sarcasm on like brick mortar.

“Steady on, man, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“You were winding me up on purpose!”

“Wasn’t, though apparently I’ve succeeded in spite of the fact. Really, though, I’m sure she’s fine. Or at least she will be in a few days.” Jeremy shook his head. “Stop loving your child, please. As if you could.”

James, meanwhile, was upstairs in Emily’s room, mirroring Richard’s actions from earlier. “Uncle Jeremy’s here, love,” he said, stroking her dark hair just above her ear. “D’you want to give him his present?”

Emily was quiet for a moment and then said, “You c’n do it if you want.”

“I could, but I’m sure he’d rather have it from you. Tell you what. I’ll send him up and then you won’t have to get out of bed, how does that sound?”

“‘Kay.”

James felt Emily’s forehead a bit awkwardly since she was facing away from him, but finding her to be no warmer than normal he headed back downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to collect the envelope from the front of the fridge before returning to the lounge and handing it to Jeremy.

“Here, take this up and open it with her, she’s awake.”

Jeremy took the envelope. “What is it?”

“Something she wants you to have.”

Jeremy looked skeptically at the giant grins James and Richard were suddenly sporting but went up to Emily’s room anyway, where he found a lump in the bed. “Em?”

The duvet moved a bit, revealing the tiniest bit of Emily’s face. “‘Lo,” she said, barely audible. Jeremy sat on the bed beside her, holding up the envelope.

“What’ve we got here, then?”

“Open it.”

He did, and he didn’t have to do more than peek inside the envelope before dissolving into a full-blown belly laugh, recognising his present as the drawing Sarah had sent them a photo of a few weeks before.

“You really are a peculiar child, you know that?” The laugh lessened to a chuckle. “In the most wonderful way possible.” Jeremy set the envelope aside and got his arms around Emily as best he could, kissing the miniscule bit of forehead sticking out from under the covers. “Thanks, Em. You feel better, hmm? I swear your dads go to pieces the instant anything happens to you. I think Richard might actually explode. They love you so much, Em, and so do I.” He held her a little tighter for a moment and then let her go, taking his envelope and going back downstairs.

Emily listened to Jeremy’s footsteps receding and thought about what he’d said. It didn’t fit into her new understanding of her pedigree. You couldn’t love something you’d had forced upon you - you could merely tolerate it, surely? Anyway, her dads made a living at pretending to do things. She was sure that could extend to pretending to love her. Maybe she’d been a challenge, or a bet. The more she thought about that, the more it seemed horrifyingly possible. She knew she couldn’t pretend to be ill forever but it would at least buy her some time while she sorted out how best to go about moving forward. She didn’t have the words to categorise this thing she was feeling. It was far more than sad. It was lonely, it was empty, it was confused, it was a bit angry and rather betrayed; but it was such a mixed up bundle of those things and it swirled around her like a swarm of bees. It stung. Over, and over, and over. Suddenly everything was an untruth - nothing was to be believed.

In that moment, and without even really knowing she was doing it, Emily finished construction on her own wall. It already had a solid foundation, built on the harsh words and merciless taunts from the schoolyard she’d been keeping silently to herself for the last year or more. The remainder of the wall slowly materialised around her on all sides, high and impenetrable, capable of keeping her together and deflecting the slings and barbs of the outside world. Behind it she was safe, she could control herself and what touched her and what didn’t, and because it was her and her alone she’d be able to both protect herself and keep herself hidden from anyone who wasn’t particularly interested in dealing with her anyway.

Better. Stronger. And fortified.

**~~~**

How do you say to a child who’s in flight, “Don’t slip away, and I won’t hold so tight.”?

What do you say that - no matter how slight - won’t be misunderstood?

**~~~**

**November 28, 2016**

For the better part of three weeks Emily managed to turn ‘keeping a low profile’ into something of an artform. Her dads were away a great deal filming the tent portions of the show, and even when they were home they were frantically trying to get work done on their other obligations since it was getting towards the end of the year. It was much the same with Sarah where her work was concerned. Emily took to spending an inordinate amount of time alone in her room at home, and in the room that she used at Sarah’s, and because everyone was so preoccupied with work it was easier for her to slip away from things unnoticed.

It wasn’t at all fun, but Emily was determined to get used to being on an island. The less they had to worry about her, the less they even had to deal with her, the better. If she was barely there she was less of a burden. It was a lonely task she’d set for herself, and if she hadn't had Chloe at school she probably would have caved, especially after the Johannesburg episode of her dads’ show aired. The boys from two years up who had given her problems before hadn’t had much chance this year because they had a different lunchtime now, but the Monday following the broadcast of the Jo’burg show they made a point to corner Emily before the first bell.

“Oi! Andrew! It’s the poofs from the telly’s little princess!”

“Whassat, Toby? The one nobody wanted?” That was Andrew Jones, the ringleader. Toby Michaelson had been the first to spot Emily, but once Andrew saw her the rest of them formed a half-circle around her, backing her up to the side of the building. There were five of them and one of her, so Emily simply allowed herself to be herded and kept quiet.

Toby replied, “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Andrew grinned sadistically. “Did you know that, you little troll? Your dads never wanted you.”

Emily, fully convinced of this already, swallowed and nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. It had been difficult enough carrying that knowledge secretly, but now, somehow, other people had found out about it, and the weight of it grew by a tonne.

“Oh, you knew that then, did you?” Andrew continued, “Even before they said it _on television_ for the whole world to hear?”

Emily’s head snapped up at that, eyes wide. Toby smirked, “Oh, dear! She didn’t know her precious daddies told anyone who would listen how much they didn’t want her!”

Andrew tutted. “Such a shame. She clearly hasn’t seen the film. There’s proof of it, you know. You’d better not watch it though, you’ll just cry like the unwanted baby you are.”

Emily set her jaw. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t. The boys were laughing full tilt at this point, at least until Chloe blew in like a pint-sized hurricane and scattered them like a hyena through a group of vultures. They were still laughing as they moved off.

“Did they hurt you? I’ll kill ‘em!”

“No, Chloe.”

“Are you okay?” Emily nodded and Chloe hugged her as the bell rang. “Come on, Em.”

*******

The school day dragged on forever. Emily couldn't get Andrew’s words out of her head. ‘ _There’s proof of it, you know._ ’ She knew just how to find it, and she would. As soon as she got home.

James had given Emily his old laptop at the start of the school year with the understanding that it was to be used for homework _only_ , with internet activities limited to research and a couple of pre-approved websites and YouTube channels for recreational purposes, but only after homework was finished. Amazon wasn’t on her ‘ _okay_ ’ list, but she knew where James kept the password and that it was the only way to get some closure on this subject for herself. She thought to herself, ‘ _Anyway, it is a SORT of research._ ’ Watching her dads’ programmes had always felt odd to Emily and she’d never made a habit out of it. Maybe that’s why they’d thought they could tell the world they hadn’t wanted her without her finding out. She cued up the most recent episode of The Grand Tour with the volume as low as she could have it and still hear and settled in to watch. It was a while before she got to it, but once she did it was glaringly apparent.

> **_Jeremy_ ** _: “Honestly, downforce… I don’t like having to trust something I can’t see. It’s like North Korea.”_
> 
> **_Richard_ ** _: “Or the contraceptive pill. [audience laughter] ...That was an overshare.”_

Emily ran it back and replayed it several times. It was so slight, but overwhelmingly apparent - at least in her mind. She logged out, shut the internet browser down and got on with her homework, sadly satisfied in her conclusion. There was no denying it now. No grey area. She _had_ been unwanted.

*******

**December 5, 2016**

Chloe had stuck to Emily like glue after the first morning she’d chased the boys away before school. They’d tried to get at Emily again every morning after that but Chloe wasn’t about to allow it. As long as she was around, no one was going to touch her best friend and live to tell the tale. This was working well enough, at least until Chloe and Emily’s teacher needed to have something run up to the school office and chose to send Emily. It wouldn’t have been a problem except that it happened to be bang in the middle of the upper years’ lunchtime and she had to pass through the thick of that to get where she was going.

They saw her heading to the office and were more than prepared for her on the return trip. They ambushed her at the corner of the building, just out of sight of the schoolyard activity, spreading into their usual half-circle, Andrew in the middle, Toby at his right.

“What, no guard dog today?” Andrew stepped up and pushed her. “No one to protect you?” _Push_ . “No idea why anyone would want to anyway, it’s not like anyone would notice if you disappeared!” _PUSH_.

“Tell her, Drew!” Toby egged him on.

Emily could hear the edge in Andrew’s voice as he said, “Oh, I’ll do better than tell her.”

The next shove was three times harder than the earlier ones and it sent Emily flying, off balance. Another push connected with her side, sending her head first into the side of the building. Her forehead connected with the siding with a sharp crack and everything went fuzzy around the edges. There was a rushing sound in her ears as she fell against the wall, her knees giving out under her. She blinked furiously, trying to clear her vision, and tried to get back to her feet but didn’t quite manage it, falling again. She could still hear Andrew shouting at her, though she couldn’t make out the words. Suddenly a kick connected with her side and she was knocked breathless. After that it was all a flurry of footsteps and shouting, though the voices were different now, older. Emily felt herself being picked up off the ground but was too dazed to do much more than allow herself to be heaved about between whomever first got her of the ground and then eventually into what her scrambled little mind registered as an ambulance. There was a voice, presumably attached to a body somewhere, telling her to concentrate on its words, to try to stay awake. Emily clung to the sound as though it were the last piece of wreckage in the middle of a vast ocean of noise and pain.

*******

The phone rang at the Hammersmith house at a quarter to one.

“Hammond! Can you get that? I’m a bit busy in here!”

“Yeah, got it!”

James wasn’t really listening in on the conversation from his office but when Richard’s voice became frantic James started towards the kitchen. The phone was slammed unceremoniously into its cradle along with Richard’s shouts of “James! JAMES!”

“What? What’s going on?”

“Come on. Something happened to Emily at school - they’ve taken her to casualty. We’ve got to go. NOW.”

“Fuck. You’re not driving!”

“The hell I’m not!”

“No, you’re not, not like this. You’ll get reckless and that won’t help anyone.” James took the keys to the Rover out of Richard’s hand. “I’ll drive. Come on.”

James drove quickly but carefully, both he and Richard swearing with vigour at anything and anyone that got in their way as they went. James stopped at the entrance to A&E and Richard jumped out. “Figure out where she is and, I dunno, text me or something so I can find you. I have to park.”

Richard took off for the registrar’s desk and was quickly directed down the hall to the left to Ward 2-B where he found a nurses’ station. Recognising him, one of the nurses told him, “She’s in x-ray at the moment, we’ll let you back to see her as soon as they’ve finished with her.”

Richard was about to protest but just then James showed up from one direction and Miss Winslow, the head teacher from Emily’s school, came out of the door to the ward along with another nurse. “Mr. Hammond, Mr. May, they’ve given us a vacant office to use. Could you come this way, please?”

“Where is she?” Richard said, the words coming out strangled and pained. He felt James’ hand on the back of his neck, his grip solid and comforting.

“Better to do this behind closed doors, Rich,” he said quietly, “come on.”

The nurse led James, Richard, and Miss Winslow to the empty office and shut the door behind herself as she left.

Miss Winslow turned to them and said, “I know you must be beyond worried about Emily, but the first thing to say is that she’s going to be fine. She’s a remarkably robust little girl and they’ve told me that they’re prepared to send her home with you this afternoon unless something shows up in the x-rays that warrants overnight observation. I’m sure the doctors will give you the particulars, but I wanted to make sure you knew as much as I did about her condition before I got into how this happened in the first place.”

“So what _did_ happen, then?” James’ patience was wearing thin at this point and Richard was taking deep breaths with his head between his knees.

Miss Winslow pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned on the edge of the desk. “Miss Stevens sent Emily to run a form to the school office, and on her way back to class a group of boys in year six cornered her. It was their lunchtime, and they managed to herd her out of sight of the schoolyard monitors and around a corner. One of them pushed her into the side of the building and she hit her head quite badly. As she was trying to get up, he kicked her in the ribs. One of the nursery teachers happened to be looking out of her classroom window and saw the whole thing happen. She raised the rest of us and we managed to get there before any further harm was done.”

Richard hadn’t moved. His head was still between his knees, hands tangled in his hair. James had one hand on Richard’s back, and the other pressed to his own forehead, eyes closed.

Miss Winslow continued, “I am so, so very sorry this happened, Mr. Hammond, Mr. May. We’ve had troubles with this boy in the past but he’s never been violent. I assure you his place at the school is forfeit as a result of this incident, and the other boys will be dealt with in accordance with their level of involvement.”

There was a knock at the door and the nurse popped her head back in. “I’ll be back to collect you in about ten minutes. They’ve finished in x-ray and they’re bringing Emily up.”

James said an automatic but choked, “Thank you,” and the nurse replied,

“Don’t worry, she’s going to be fine. She’s doing everything without help which is a really good thing. I get the feeling it would take a lot more than this to keep her down.” She smiled and left.

“Well,” said Miss Winslow when the nurse left, “I have to get back to the school and deal with the other half of this. Please call me if you have questions or need anything - and I do mean _anything_.” She handed James a business card with her personal mobile number written on the back. “I hope Emily recovers quickly and I look forward to having her back at school - but not before she’s ready.”

James sighed and stood up, taking the hand Miss Winslow offered and shook it. “Thank you for coming with Emily, I’m sure she appreciated that.”

“There was no way I’d send the little thing on her own, bless her, not like that.” Miss Wilson’s eyes were a bit damp now. She looked over at Richard who still hadn’t moved, and then placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed before leaving.

Once the door clicked closed behind her James said, “Alright, Hammond. Public faces for Emily.”

Richard finally moved, rubbing his face with his hands as he stood up. James could see the pattern of drop marks on the knees of his jeans now, and the residual wetness on his cheeks. They moved wordlessly towards each other, Richard burying his face in James’ shirt, James resting his cheek on the top of Richard’s head. They stayed like that, together, until the nurse knocked again and stuck her head in. She smiled and said, “They’re ready for you now.”

James and Richard followed her down the hall and into an exam room where they found  Emily sitting on the table looking at her x-rays with a young lady doctor.

“Ah, Mr. Hammond, Mr. May. I’m Dr. Lewis.” She shook hands with both of them. Emily didn’t look up. “Emily and I have been taking a look at her ribs. I’ll put these up here so that you can see them as well.” She moved to the light box on the wall and switched it on, catching the pained looks on James’ and Richard’s faces which were riveted to Emily, and not missing the fact that Emily had yet to even acknowledge her fathers. It was occasionally difficult reuniting families after a child suffered a trauma, even one as comparatively mild as this, so Dr. Lewis continued to talk to fill the space and hopefully put everyone at ease. “You two should be very proud; Emily’s been a model patient. She completely charmed the paramedics who brought her in. I’ve worked with them a great deal - they’ve usually got all the bedside manner of a pair of grizzly bears but they were properly impressed with Emily. They said she clung to consciousness like a champ. They’ve had grown men pass out on them from lesser injuries. She simply refused to give in.” Dr. Lewis turned her attention to the x-rays. “If you’ll look here you’ll see that while we have three distinct fractures, they’re non-displaced. She’ll want to take things slowly for a good while - I’d say four to six weeks - and be careful bending and twisting. It’s going to hurt to laugh and cough and so forth for some time, I’m afraid, especially for the first week or so. I’d recommend ice for the first day or two - fifteen minutes on, fifteen off - and I’ve sent a prescription down for a pain medication if she needs it. The external bruising is quite obvious but will of course fade with time. Emily, could you please?”

Dr. Lewis made a motion for Emily to show her dads her side, and without looking up she carefully pulled up her jumper and shirt revealing an already angrily purple bruise about the size of a tennis ball halfway between her waist and her arm.

“Jesus,” whispered James.

Richard’s hand flew to his mouth. “Oh, Em.”

“Now as for the head trauma,” Dr. Lewis continued, gently turning Emily by her shoulders so that she was facing James and Richard from her perch on the table, and tilting her head up, “the bump and the bruising will subside in time and she’ll have an almighty headache for the next twenty four hours or so I expect. The pain med I prescribed will do for her ribs and her head. If the headache goes on for longer than twenty four hours please make sure you bring her back or get her to her GP. She’s definitely suffered a mild concussion, but since she never lost consciousness I’m prepared to send her home today. Just make sure she stays awake until at least seven this evening. After that she can go to sleep, but not before.”

Dr. Lewis held both her hands out to Emily, who took them and gingerly got herself down from the exam table. “I need to have a word with your dads now, Emily. Can you go and sit on the chair outside the door, please?”

Emily nodded and quietly said, “Thank you, Dr. Lewis,” before letting herself out of the room, still stalwartly ignoring James and Richard even as they both reached for her as she walked between them on her way out. They gaped after her, and then at each other as she disappeared into the hall.

When the door was closed, Dr. Lewis said, “Mr. Hammond, Mr. May, I don’t know Emily beyond the time I’ve spent with her today, but the looks on your faces tell me this stoicism isn’t normal for her.”

“It’s not, it’s really not,” Richard said shakily.

“I thought she’d seemed a bit distant lately, but I figured it was because we’ve been away and even when we’ve been home we’ve been trying to plough through the year-end rubbish. She never said anything was wrong, and clearly there was.” James looked helplessly at Richard. “How did I not see this? How did I not even consider the possibility that there was something the matter?”

“How did _you_ not see it? How did _I_ not see it!” Richard was on the verge of tears again, barely holding it together. James slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

“Well,” said Dr. Lewis gently, “regardless, you’ve seen it now. I’m sure with a little patience you can get to the root cause of the change. It could be any number of things that’s causing her to draw into herself like this. You just need to talk to her, and if you find she’s reluctant to talk to you, maybe there’s another family member she’ll open up to. Children are funny things. Their reasoning is sometimes flawless to themselves but utterly bewildering to us. Given how stoic she was today, you may have a time of it ahead of you - but don’t give up. She’s a strong willed little girl and while that will serve her well in the long run it can also work to her detriment. Go gently but be persistent. And love the hell out of her.”

Dr. Lewis took a clipboard off of the counter and handed it to James. “Please make sure you drop these at the nurse’s station before you leave, and you can pick up the pain meds on your way out - they ought to be ready by now.”

James took the clipboard and whispered, “Thank you for looking after Emily. I don’t know what we’d do if-” he stopped himself before it got overwhelming.

Dr. Lewis laid a hand on his shoulder. “She’s a very good girl. Just work on getting her out of her head and I have no doubt she’ll take care of the rest.” She left.

James planted a kiss on Richard’s head which was still resting on his shoulder and tilted the paperwork towards him. “Pills or bills?”

“Pills,” sighed Richard. “You’ve always been better at ticking boxes.”

They left the room and found Emily sitting cross-legged in a chair to the right of the door. Richard leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “I’m off in search of pain meds, I’ll be back.”

James sat down in the chair to Emily’s right, put an arm around her and set about filling in the forms, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he did. She was picking at her fingernails, eyes downcast, looking sadder than he’d ever seen her. For the umpteenth time that afternoon James could feel his heart cracking. He reached out and stroked a finger down her cheek.

“How’re you feeling, love?” Emily shrugged and James retraced the path his finger had taken one more time before turning back to the clipboard and signing one final form. “Well, that’s those finished. As soon as Daddy gets back we’ll hand these in and get you home, okay?” Emily nodded silently as Richard rounded the corner with a small bag. James stood up when he saw him coming. “Is it a liquid or what?”

“Tablets, but they’re the chewable kind. The lady told me they taste almost exactly nothing like orange. Sorry Em, they sound awful.” Richard held out a hand to her but Emily ignored it and stood up on her own. He gently bumped her shoulder. “Hey. Hand, please. I’ll feel better if I’ve got hold of you in case you get dizzy or something.”

Emily glanced up at him then, a fleeting look, hardly flicking her eyes up for more than a second, but what Richard saw - or more accurately, didn’t see - in her eyes made the bottom drop out of his world. It had always been a source of frustration to Richard that he couldn’t ever seem to capture the startling blue of Emily’s eyes. He’d tried pencils and watercolours, pastels and oils, and on one occasion he’d pressed Emily’s vast accumulation of colour crayons into service in his quest to memorialise the pure azure of her gaze. All attempts at manmade recreations had failed, however, and fantastically. Sometimes he would see that perfect blue reflected in nature. In the colour of the sea in Cornwall, or when Emily was little in the sky behind her as he held her up with his feet, playing aeroplane on lazy summer afternoons spent in the garden. The truth of the colour was lost in photographs as well - it was never quite there when you looked later. After seemingly endless attempts - and a quasi-intervention by James who had finally gotten sick to death of half finished portraits of their daughter, in some cases just her eyes, lying around cluttering up the place - Richard had had to admit defeat. Even in that, though, he found a shred of comfort. If he couldn’t capture that innocent, wild blue, it was highly unlikely that anyone else could either, which in his mind at least made it seem as if Emily could never truly be caged - for any reason. As long as that elusive hue remained, his little girl was protected by some otherworldly charm. But in that sliver of a moment when she looked at him it became startlingly obvious that Emily’s luminous cerulean guardian had been violently snuffed out. Her light was gone.

Emily took his hand then and Richard held it as tightly as he could without hurting her as the three of them left the building, stopping for a moment for James to drop off the forms. The drive home was silent. Richard had sat in the back with Emily ‘ _just in case_ ’, though he honestly wasn’t sure in case of what.

When they got home, Richard helped Emily down from the Rover and got her inside while James stopped at the letterbox to collect the mail. As he was sorting through it on his way towards the house he heard the gate open and the Pearsons’ Mondeo pull up.

Jenny and Chloe hopped out and Jenny said, “I’m sorry, I know we should have called ahead. We brought Emily’s school bag.”

Chloe, who was holding the bag out towards James, chose that exact moment to burst into tears. “It’s my fault!”

James and Jenny stared at her for a moment, and then in one swift movement James took Emily’s bag from Chloe’s hands and got her sat down on the front steps next to him. Jenny sat down on the other side.

“Of course it isn’t, Chloe, what are you talking about?” Jenny was rubbing Chloe’s back now, trying to calm her down.

“She made me promise not to tell!”

“Not to tell what, sweetheart? Chloe, calm down and start at the beginning.”

Chloe snuggled in against Jenny then and took a few deep breaths. “They started being mean to her after the… you know… the thing I’m not supposed to talk about.”

“The boys did?” Jenny asked. Chloe nodded.

James looked to Jenny for some context. “The thing she’s not supposed to talk about?”

“The… um… Mr. Clarkson’s… outburst,” Jenny said a bit sheepishly.

“Ah,” said James, his face registering understanding. He asked Chloe, “So this has been going on for quite a while, then?”

“She made me promise not to tell. She didn’t want you to have to worry about her. I tried really hard to keep them away from her but I wasn’t with her today and now she’s hurt and it’s my fault!” Chloe broke into a fresh round of sobs. James took over rubbing her back from Jenny while she hugged Chloe, rocking her back and forth, quietly shushing her.

When Chloe quieted some, James said, “Chloe, you’ve always been such a good friend to Emily. I’m really glad the two of you found each other. I know you did your best to protect her. Your loyalty is an admirable quality, Chloe, and it’s one I hope you never lose. You made a promise and you kept it. It’s just, sometimes, Chloe, even the promises made with the best intentions can be a bit dangerous. In time you’re going to learn which promises to keep and which ones are best shared, lest something happens, or someone gets hurt. Sometimes the best thing you can do for a friend is break a promise.”

Chloe’s voice was muffled by Jenny’s side as she said, “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, sweetheart. I know the last thing you ever wanted was for Emily to get hurt.” Chloe pulled away from Jenny then and unexpectedly dove into James’ arms. He was startled to stillness for a moment, but gently settled an arm around her once it was obvious she wasn’t going to pull immediately away. His eyes met Jenny’s.

Jenny shook her head, eyes wide. “I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

“It’s alright. Think how much worse it could have been if Emily hadn’t had Chloe at all.”

A little voice came from James’ chest then. “She’s going to be angry with me.”

James looked down and gave Chloe a squeeze. “I sincerely doubt that.”

Chloe pulled back from James with a sigh and looked at her mum, who said, “Come on. We’d better let Mr. May get back to Emily.”

Chloe nodded, stood up, and walked back to the car. Jenny turned to James. “If I know my child at all, she’s going to be a wreck for the rest of the evening at least.”

“Go easy on her, she thought she was doing the right thing by Emily.”

“Oh, I’m the last person who could tell her off about this. She gets it from me. I kept more than a few dangerous promises in my day. I’m torn between being proud of her and being terrified of what else she might be hiding.”

James squeezed Jenny’s shoulder. “Be proud.”

He waited until they pulled away and then went inside where he found Richard in the kitchen, a bag of frozen peas in one hand and a tea towel in the other. James took them from him and wrapped the towel around the bag of peas. “Jenny and Chloe just brought Em’s school bag.”

“Chloe’s upset, isn’t she.” Richard frowned.

“Incredibly.” James’ hands stilled and he sighed. “Rich, they’d been bullying her since just after Clarkson’s final Top Gear tirade.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

James shook his head. “Em made Chloe promise not to tell anyone. She didn’t want us to worry. Chloe’s been protecting her the whole time.”

“I always knew I liked Chloe for a reason.”

“She blames herself for today - because she wasn’t there.” James drew a hand down his face. “I dunno, Emily thought she was doing us a favor by not telling us so we wouldn’t worry, Chloe was looking out for her best friend, and while I’m frankly awed at the solidarity between the two of them I’ve still got a very hurt little girl on my hands who’s acting like someone I’ve never met. I’m out of my depth, here.” James turned and looked at Richard, his face drawn and tired and desperate. “I’m lost, Rich. I just want Emily back.”

Richard considered his partner for a long moment. James was the calm, rational one. James was the voice of reason to Richard’s ‘ _act-first-ask-questions-later_ ’. James was the fixer of broken toys and the explainer-away of fears. James was the comfort of routine, the logged flight plan. But Richard knew he had his strengths as well. He’d always been the one to mend Emily and Chloe’s friendship from fallouts over silly misunderstandings and little disagreements. He’d been the one to field all of a teary-eyed three-year-old Emily’s questions about death when an unfortunate sparrow had flown bang into the kitchen window one afternoon and not made it, the one to tell her it was okay to be sad even if it was just over a sparrow. James was the tangible, Richard was the ethereal. And this? Well, this fell under Richard’s purview.

“Then let’s go get her back.”

“How?” James said helplessly.

“I’ll wing it. How hard can it-”

James thumped him with the bag of peas then and for the first time in what seemed like an age they both smiled.

They moved into the lounge where Emily was sitting cross-legged in the corner of the sofa. While James got her settled with the bag of peas over her ribs Richard moved the coffee table directly in front of Emily. He sat facing her, reaching out and resting a hand on her knee. James sat next to her, arm around her shoulders. Emily had hoped they’d just get on with telling her off and then let her go back to pretending not to exist, but this looked like a ‘ _Conversation_ ’, and she was pretty sure she couldn’t get out of it.

Richard’s voice was low and gentle. “How long has this been going on, Em?”

Emily sighed. “Since the start of the school year after Uncle Jeremy threw a wobbly up north.”

“Em.” She didn’t look up. “Emily, look at me.” She flicked her eyes up but kept her head down. “Why didn’t you say anything, poppet?”

She looked away. “Didn’t want you to worry. Everything was still a mess then and Uncle Jeremy said-”

“Oh for-”

“ _James_.” Richard snapped. “Let her finish.”

“I’m sorry, Em. Keep going, love.”

Emily picked at a fingernail. “He told me that he knew he made a mess, and that it made a mess for us, and that me being normal made you feel better so I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make anything worse.”

“Oh Emily,” Richard sighed, “you’re making me wonder what else there’s been that you haven’t told us now.”

Before she could stop herself, Emily blurted out, “Does it matter? It’s no more than you didn’t tell me! Or told everyone _but_ me!”

The moment it left her lips she felt her stomach drop. She hadn’t meant to tell them at all, ever - even if they didn’t want her, she still didn’t want to hurt them. She started to curl up into herself but they were well versed in the signs of that happening now and Richard’s hand held fast on her knee, keeping it down, while James reached his other arm around the front of her so she couldn’t lock herself up. She tried to pull away to one side but yelped when she felt a sharp twinge in her injured ribs. At her cry all the hands immediately recoiled from her, both James and Richard suddenly terrified that they’d done more damage. Emily didn’t say anything, just covered her face with one hand, hiding her screwed-shut eyes, and turned her head away from them, refusing to allow herself to cry. After a moment, James retrieved the bag of peas from where it had fallen between him and Emily on the sofa and gently replaced it on her side. Emily tucked her elbow around it to keep it in place but didn’t move any more. Eventually she felt their hands return to her, James’ at the back of her neck, Richard’s to the same knee it had been on before.

Richard whispered, “Em, what do you think we haven’t told you?”

Emily countered his question with another question. “Was I a challenge, or was I a bet?”

James and Richard looked at each other, completely and utterly perplexed. Richard finally asked, “What do you mean?”

Emily was struggling to keep it together now. Taking a deep breath she said, “Whoever had me to begin with snuck the papers past you and dumped me on the doorstep. I’m not here because you wanted me. So, was I a challenge, or was I a bet?”

It was true that James and Richard had never told Emily _exactly_ how she’d come into their lives and how she’d managed to find out anyway was a mystery, but what she’d interpreted it to mean was just _wrong_.

“Where did you hear that, Em?”

“I overheard Sarah on the phone one night. I didn’t mean to but I heard her talking about me and then I heard that bit and I know I shouldn’t have listened but I got curious and I wish I hadn’t-” Emily stopped herself, the tears were dangerously close now.

Richard knew there was no way around it, not that he’d have lied to her at this point anyway. “Well, the bit about the papers and the doorstep is true, but Emily, of course we wanted you!”

“Didn’t! If you did, then why did you say otherwise? _On television_!” Emily had given up fighting them at this point and the tears were running unchecked down her face as she stared at him, almost daring him to deny it.

Her accusation caught Richard completely off guard. “When? When did I-”

“Johannesburg!” Emily sobbed.

Richard stopped cold as realisation hit. He stood up, holding his head, and paced to the doorway to the hall and then back to the centre of the lounge again where he turned around, arms wide. “Go on, James, say it. I know you want to. Say ‘I told you so’.”

“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Clarkson’s. If it weren’t for him she wouldn’t even know what a contraceptive pill _is_ at the ripe old age of eight.”

“Stop dithering, May. I’m standing here asking for it!”

“Rich, come on. You know me better than that, and now’s really not the time.”

“No, James, I think now’s a pretty fucking appropriate time, all things considered. You were right, I was stupid, and you’ve every right to tell me so!”

It was James’ turn to snap. “ _Richard_!”

He motioned to Emily, who had curled herself up while Richard was shouting, at least as much as she could given the state of her ribs. She knew it was her fault her dads were suddenly so angry with each other, and all she wanted was for it to stop.

“ _SHIT_! Emily?” Richard resumed his seat in front of her. “Em. Emily, poppet. Em, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Uncle Jeremy and I thought that would be funny, because obviously Dad and I can’t have children on our own and- well, it doesn’t matter. But Emily, I promise you that’s not what I meant. Dad said we shouldn’t do it because what would you think if you ever saw it, and I didn’t listen to him and I was wrong, Emily. It was a tasteless joke and it wasn’t worth hurting you like this. Em?”

Emily wasn’t even trying to keep quiet at this point. Her head and her ribs throbbed with the force of her crying. “Just don’t be angry with each other, please!” she managed to say between sobs.

James had both arms around her now, not knowing what else to do. “Em, love, it was just a stupid, throwaway joke. Daddy and I aren’t angry with each other about that, or anything really, we’re just worried about you. We had no idea any of this was going on and we feel terrible that you’ve ever doubted for a _second_ that we love you and that you’d think we didn’t want you. Emily, you were the missing piece. Without you there’d be this great gaping hole in our lives.”

Emily looked up then, wanting it to be true but not daring to hope in case she was wrong. Staring back at her were two pairs of eyes, one brown, one blue, both sad and concerned and yearning, and all for her. It might as well have been the battle of Jericho for as quickly as her wall came tumbling down. She could almost see it falling away, her painstaking construction, all for nothing it turned out. The weight of it diminished to nothingness as James pulled back a bit, gently helping her uncurl herself. She let him, but once she was free of her self-imposed cocoon she felt overwhelmingly exposed and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, Em.” Richard sighed. “Look, shove up, the pair of you. There’s not nearly enough hugging going on.”

James and Emily scooted down the sofa a bit so that Richard could squeeze in on Emily’s other side, getting his arms around her and over James’ carefully so as not to jostle her too much. Once Emily’s crying subsided, the three of them stayed there silently for a long time. Eventually Richard turned and made the sorriest face he could at James over Emily’s head. James rolled his eyes and flicked Richard’s ear before leaning across Emily and kissing him softly, trying to telegraph his own apology and forgiveness and gratitude and a whole lot of love. Emily felt what was going on above her and leaned back into the two of them, nesting her head underneath their chins, adding her own layer of feeling.

After a minute or so, James extricated himself and said, “Hang on. I’ll be back in a minute.”

As he left the room Emily looked up questioningly at Richard who just shrugged, relieved to see the blue glimmer returning to her eyes. It was far from being at full force, but there was time. She leaned against his shoulder as he kissed her head and said, “I didn’t think you watched us anyway, Em. I thought it weirded you out.”

“It does, and I don’t, but… someone told me about… you know… and I wanted to see for myself.”

“Who told you?”

“Andrew Jones.”

“Is he one of the-” but he stopped there because Emily was answering his question by pointing at her head, and then at her side. “He did this?” Emily nodded. “Well, it’s probably a good thing I’ll never meet the little shit. I’d kill him to death. Twice. And then again a few more times. You know, just to be sure.”

Emily didn’t say anything, just snuggled closer to Richard’s side. They heard the back door close and James shuffling around in another room. When he came back into the lounge he set a white washing basket and a small box on the coffee table and sat back down.

“You kept that?” Richard asked incredulously.

“Well, once we stopped using it I put it out in the shed and then I forgot about it. Found it again a couple of years ago and got a bit sentimental and figured if it had been there that long…”

“You old softie, May.” Richard giggled.

“Shut up,” James said fondly. He tucked a wisp of hair behind Emily’s ear as he nudged the basket with his knee. “That’s how you came to us. You were so tiny. So fragile and so utterly alone. It was a shock, obviously, I mean, we weren’t exactly expecting you, but it took you all of four hours to cement your place in our hearts for life.”

Emily contemplated the basket as she remembered something Sarah had said. “Even with all the screaming?”

James smiled. “For me it was almost _because_ of the screaming.” He leaned over and whispered theatrically, “You really only did it to Daddy!”

Richard laughed. “Your other favourite pastime was vomiting on me.”

Emily giggled for a second, but then frowned. “I must have been awful.”

“You were amazing,” Richard said adamantly.

“You still are.” James kissed her cheek.

“What’s in the box?”

James handed it to her. “Something Daddy bought for you.”

Richard watched her open the little blue box and explained, “There was a little bit of time when we thought maybe we wouldn’t get to keep you - it took the lawyers ages to verify everything - and if they’d taken you away from us I wanted you to have something to keep. Even if you never remembered us, you’d know at one point somebody loved you.”

Emily was holding the white gold and diamond bangle, tracing her finger around the edge. She smiled and put it away, replacing the box on the table and reaching for both James’ and Richard’s hands, tugging them both in towards her. Wrapped up in their arms she felt safe, and loved, and more sure than she’d ever been that she was really and truly wanted.

*******

 

**~~~**

Guide them but step away, children will glisten…

**~~~**

**Epilogue**

The fifth time James heard the back door open and close, he gave up trying to work and went to see just what his daughter was up to. He found Emily in the kitchen rinsing a tuna fish tin, the contents of which were on a saucer on the counter.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Emily carefully put the tin in the recycle basket, grabbed the saucer, and said, “Come and see!”

James trailed her outside and down the back steps, where she turned left and disappeared. He found her crouched down next to the side of the steps pushing the saucer underneath through a hole in the lattice work he’d been meaning to mend. He knelt down next to her.

“Look!” she whispered.

He saw a pile of rag towels they used for vehicle maintenance in a ring around a grey mama tabby cat and three tiny tabby kittens, two grey and one marmalade, eyes and ears still closed up tight. The mama cat was tucking into the tuna as though she were starved, and James noticed that one of their bowls was next to the saucer, presumably filled with water.

“Well, would you look at that.” He smiled.

They heard Richard’s Ducati pull up in the drive and Emily shot off around the side of the house. James could hear her telling him to come and see what she’d found, Richard laughing at her excitement. Emily practically dragged him into the yard, shushing him as they went. They knelt down next to James, Richard’s riding leathers creaking.

Richard whispered, “Well, would you look at that!”

Emily grinned, wrinkling her nose. “That’s exactly what Dad said!”

Richard looked at James, who shrugged and said, “I did.”

They were quiet for a minute, watching the mama cat finish the tuna and clean her whiskers.

You know, Em, we used to have a cat,” James said.

“We did?”

“He passed away when you were too little to remember. He was a black and white tom cat called Fusker.”

“Is he the one in the little picture on your desk?”

“That’s him.”

They were quiet again, and Richard looked at James over Emily’s head as he said, “You know, we could probably make room for a cat again, don’t you think, James?”

James, having figured this was coming, smiled. “I think so. What do you think, Em? That little orange fellow is quite handsome.”

Emily shook her head. “I’d rather the mama cat. The kittens will adopt out in no time but grown-up cats don’t always… and then…” She looked at James sadly. “I looked it up.”

James kissed her nose. “What shall we call her, then, love?”

Emily contemplated the possibilities as the kittens started to stir, squeaking for their mama, who doled out licks and nudges.

“Porsche.”

“What, like the car?” Richard beamed.

“We should spell it like that, but no, not because of the car.”

“Oh,” said Richard. “Why, then?”

Emily pointed to where the cats were. “Because I found her under the porch.”

James laughed. “Makes sense to me!”

Emily looked at the mama cat. “What do you think, Porsche?”

Porsche meowed appreciatively and began to purr. Emily felt two pairs of arms wrap around her then, Richard pressing a kiss into her hair on one side, and James on the other, saying,

“The best things show up on our doorstep.”

**~~~**


End file.
